Thursday, January 31, 2013

In
medieval times, there was a strong sense of making the punishment fit the
crime, and law enforcers were sometimes quite creative in determining a sentence
for an individual offender. Offences relating to unwholesome food or drink, or
food that was “in deceit of the people” were taken seriously, as we have seen
in previous stories about unscrupulous pie-bakers and butchers.

A
particularly appropriate punishment was meted out in November of 1364, in the
time of King Edward III, to a John Penrose, who was brought before the authorities
of the City of London and convicted of “contempt and trespass.”

The
prosecutor for the King alleged that the said John Penrose, and his colleague
John Rightwys, had “in the tavern of Walter Doget there, sold red wine to all
who came there, unsound and unwholesome for man, in deceit of the common
people, and in contempt of our Lord the King, and to the shameful disgrace of
the officers of the City; to the grievous damage of the Commonalty etc.”

The
men were committed to the infamous Newgate prison until such time as the four supervisors
of the sale of wines in the City could investigate. About ten days later, on
November 22, the verdict was returned: Rightwys was acquitted, but Penrose was
determined to be guilty. The penalty was:

“
..that the said John Penrose shall drink a draught of the same wine which he
sold to the common people; and the remainder of such wine shall then be poured
on the head of the same John ; and that he shall forswear the calling of a vintner
in the City of London for ever, unless he can obtain the favour of our Lord the
King as to the same.”

Penrose
was apparently restored to his trade in February 1369, so perhaps had some good
legal assistance in making his plea.

In
honour of good law-makers, law-enforcers, and lawyers everywhere, I give you,
from William Kitchiner’s The Cook’s
Oracle (1827):-

The
Justice’s Orange Syrup, for Punch or Puddings.

Squeeze
the Oranges, and strain the juice from the pulp to a large pot; boil it up with
a pound and a half of fine Sugar to each pint of juice; skim it well, let it
stand till cold, and then bottle it, and cork it well.

Obs.-
This makes a fine, soft, mellow-flavoured Punch; and, added to melted butter,
is a good relish to Puddings.

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Silly
me. The question of the sixteenth century pancakes has nagged at me since Monday’s
post. Eventually, one has to give in and accept an internal nag, as they
inevitably have substance. I did and it had. The list of the Top Ten Forgotten
British foods is already complete, because I have previously posted on the
topic of Sixteenth Century Pancakes.

So,
instead, let us consider sumptuary laws.

Sumptuary
Laws have a long, but not very successful history. Many monarchs and rulers in
many countries have instituted them over the centuries, for a variety of
reasons. They have all had very limited success, primarily because the
power-brokers themselves don’t like their excesses being limited, and if a sufficient
number of the populace ignore or flout the regulations, inevitably they fade
away or are actually repealed.

The
motivation for the promulgation of sumptuary laws was varied. A particularly
devout and personally abstemious leader may have felt that excessive and
conspicuous consumption would bring the wrath of God upon the nation. Archbishop
Cranmer and his bishops in 1541made some very specific orders as to the exact
number of courses and dishes that the various ranks of the clergy might eat, it
being seen that men of religion had moved too far from the concepts of
simplicity and abstemiousness – to the point even of becoming gluttonous. In
Cranmer’s own words however, “this order was kept for two or three months,
till, by the disusing of certain willful persons, it came again to the old
excesses.”

Sometimes
the motivation was less to do with morals and more to do with pride and
maintaining one’s position. To some rulers, it was unseemly that a mere ordinary
citizen might emulate or surpass one in finery or at the dining table.

Most
often, sumptuary laws applied to clothing, and they were frequently quite
detailed as to colours, fabrics, trims, styles and so on, but sometimes, as in
the example of Archbishop Cranmer, they applied to food.

Has
every country at some time or other produced sumptuary laws? It seems so. Let
us go to Spain. The first sumptuary law in Spain was issued in 1234 by James I
(“the Conqueror”) of Aragon. He was a devout man, and was apparently shocked by
the extravagance of his subjects, who were reveling in the expulsion of the hated
Moors from the kingdom. The Jewish population in were enjoying a new era of
prosperity too, which no doubt increased the Catholic monarch’s resolve to curb
the lifestyle of his subjects.

James
therefore decreed that none of his subjects should sit down to a meal of one
dish of stewed and one dish of roast meat, unless it be dried and salted. Unlimited
game might be eaten, provided that it had been hunted or caught by the
individual themselves, but otherwise only one dish of game could be on the
menu.

I
don’t know how long or how faithfully James’ subjects abided by the laws, but given
the history of such laws, I suspect not very long or faithfully at all.

If
you can catch your own pheasants, the following recipe might just be the thing.

Pheasants (Spanish way)

Take
your pheasants, singe, prick, and draw them; mince the livers with a lump of
butter, scraped bacon, champignons, green truffles, if you can get any, some
parsley, green onions, pepper, salt, sweet-herbs, and fine spice; mince all
well together, and put it into the body of your pheasants, and tie them up at
both ends; then blanch them in a stew-pan: they being blanched, put them on the
spit, wrapped in slices of bacon, and paper tied round: take a stew-pan, put
into it an onion cut into slices, a carrot cut into small bits, with a little
oil, give it some tosses over the fire, then moisten it with gravy, good
cullis, and a little essence of ham; put in it the half of a lemon cut in
slices, four cloves of garlic, a little basil, thyme, a bay-leaf, a little
parsley, green onions, and two glasses of white wine. If you have any carcasses
of pheasants, pound them, and put them into this sauce; and if you have none,
pound the livers you kept of your pheasants, after you have taken off the gall.
When your cullis is well skimmed, let it be of a good taste; now put in your
liver pounded, and strain off your cullis. Your pheasants being done, draw them
off, take off the slices of bacon, dish them up with your Spanish sauce
over them, and serve them up hot for entry. They are also served up cut into
pieces. After they are done, cut them, and put them in a stew-pan with your Spanish sauce,
and serve them up hot for a small entry, or hors

The Practical Cook, English and
Foreign (1845), by Bregion and Miller.

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

This
penultimate post on the Top Ten Forgotten British Foods has proved somewhat of a
challenge. The Guild of Fine Food
Retailers in 2006 did not give much in the way of clarification of this dish,
or what justified its choice on the list.

What sprang to my mind immediately was the well-known
Scottish dish of Cock-a-Leekie soup – but that is made with old chicken, not
rabbit – albeit on a beef stock base. I have touched on this in a previous post
(here) and gave a recipe from 1545 for a broth with capons and prunes, so the
concept is far from new. Is rabbit the poor-man’s version of chicken?

Mistress Meg Dods (Christian Isobel Johnstone)
in The Cook and Houswife’s Manual (1826)
gives a recipe, naturally (she being Scots to the core,) for Cock-a-Leekie soup,
which we all know contains prunes. Or does it? Mistress Dods’ version does not,
although she gives the following variation:

Leek
Porridge.

Make this as
cock-a-leekie, and thicken with toasted or fried bread. Use fewer leeks. Prunes
may be added to this composition.

Nowhere
have I found a specific regional British specialty with rabbit and prunes, but I sincerely hope one of you can enlighten
me. The best I can do is the following, from one of my favourite cookbooks - Domestic economy, and cookery, for rich and
poor, by a lady (1827)

Plum Rice Soups of Fowl, Veal, or Rabbit. (Scotch.)

Put any of these into
a saucepan, with a sufficient quantity of water; and, after boiling, skimming,
and simmering, till there is just time to cook the rice, drop it into the
boiling soup, either with the fowl taken out, or not, with a blade of mace, a
little lemon-zest, white pepper, salt, and half a pound of prunes, or
raisins. Let them cook sufficiently, and dish altogether or
separately, as suits; if separately, cover the meat, which ought to be kept
whole, unless it is to be fricasseed; or it may be served with a white
acidulated parsley, anchovy, caper, or liver sauce poured over it

Monday, January 28, 2013

It
is time for me to finish off the series on the list of the top ten forgotten British foods, as decided by a
competition run in 2006 by the Guild of Fine Food Retailers. I have dragged the
series out too long, and anyway, I need a quick easy story today as the state
of Queensland is in a state of storm and flood alert, and there are already
many homes without power and I don’t want to get caught mid-post!

The list of previous posts, with links, is at
the end of this story.

There are three dishes left on the list – Fife
Brooth, [Broth] Rabbit with Prunes, and Sixteenth Century Pancakes. We will
take the soup today. I have been unable to find out what is unique about the soup
from Fife, but perhaps one of you will be able to let us know. There do not
appear to be any recipes for it in old cookery books. It must surely be a form
of Scotch Barley Broth? In the absence of a definitive Fife Broth, the following
recipe will have to do, in the interests of completing this series! The next
couple of days, the storm gods and the research muses permitting, we will finish
the list.

From
The Magazine of Domestic Economy, Vol.6 (1841) a simple sustaining soup,
made the same way for centuries past and no doubt centuries to come. Just the
thing for riding out some very wet and wild weather.

Scotch Barley Broth.

Boil
a teacupful of Scotch barley or pearl barley in a gallon of water for
half an hour, then add three pounds of lean beef or neck of mutton, some sliced
onions, carrots, and turnips, a little salt, and a pint of green peas, if in
season. Boil gently for two hours or more in a covered kettle

I
understand that the correct way to serve Scotch Barley Soup is with oat cakes.

Friday, January 25, 2013

Yesterday
we looked at the rather obvious importance of the sense of taste in the
pleasure of eating, as opined by the author of Dining and its Amenities, by a Lover of Good Cheer (New York, 1907.)Today we look at perhaps the least considered
sense involved in our eating pleasure – that of hearing. Most of us at some
time or other have been in the unpleasant situation of being seated near a
noisy chewer and chomper, so may not immediately consider the potential for the
positive enhancement of the eating experience by the sense of hearing.

I
give you our author of the day’s words on the ‘auditive sense’ in relation to
eating.Although I doubt very much the
veracity of his scientific explanation, I am most intrigued by his opinion of
the effects of the act of chewing on the appreciation of music!

***

'Since the cooperative influence of the tactile and olfactive
senses upon gustation have been shown in the foregoing notes, it remains to be
told how audition contributes to the sense of taste and to the pleasure of
eating.

The auditive sense of diners is always attentive to the pleasing
click of the knives and forks, is ever charmed by the musical gurgle of the
beverages as they emerge from their slender-necked receptacles, and is
enraptured by the mellifluous tones of the congenial guests. In former times,
during drinking bouts, the gurgling of decanting wine or the bursting of the
foaming bubbles of ale not being as audible as the soldier liked, he contrived,
to better satisfy audition, the clinking of the drinking vessels; and the
ceremony is still observed. lago's song tells of that custom which was very old
even in the Elizabethan era.

"And let me the canakin dink, clink;

And let me the canakin clink:

A soldier's a man;

A life's but a span;

Why then, let a soldier drink."

It is believed that good music, during a banquet, by its
pleasing effect on the auditive sense, reflexively stimulates appetite and
promotes conviviality. It was, probably, this notion that impelled the great
among ancient civilised nations to keep their flute-players and other
musicians, and even dancers, in constant action during convivial reunions; thus
gratifying the senses of gustation and vision while catering for audition.
Music seems to do more thancharm the gourmet's audition since they believe that certain
sounds, affecting the nerve which goes to the salivary glands, excite an
increased flow of saliva so very indispensable to gustation. Here then the
incident musical sounds serve to heighten the gratification of the gustative as
well as the auditive sense, and offer a sufficient reason why, even in these
modern times, musicians are so often kept in action during the period of
deliberate degustation and thus check conversation which is so fatal to the
full enjoyment of delicate aliments. Besides their natural fondness for music
and on account of its good effect on gustation the majority of gourmets have
another reason to desire its introduction at banquets, for they know that the
act of mastication, by causing tension of the ear-drum, permits a greater
appreciation of certain notes.

Remotely related to the gustative sense is the quick perception,
ready specialisation, and exquisite enjoyment of delicate, varied, and
harmonious musical sounds, which together have been designated the savor of
sounds; and those endowed with this rare auditory faculty of thus savoring
sweet sounds, are said to possess practically an additional sense. The true
gourmet is ever as busy cultivating his senses as the athlete his muscles.

***

The
author ends his brief dissertation on the role of the senses in the pleasure of
eating with these words:

***

The last, the most brilliant of all the services at a grand feast, is
ushered in with its luscious dainties, sweet ices, fragrant fruits, delicate
cheeses, and foaming wines, to crown with glory the sensual delight of eating
and herald the intellectual pleasure of the table stimulated and intensified by
the slow imbibition of wee cupfuls of sable mocha infusion, by the sipping of
the nectarean cordials from tiny crystal vessels, and by the leisurely
inhalation of delectable nicotian vapors.

There is not a more beautiful illustration of the Creator's infinite
wisdom than his endowment of man, for his preservation and happiness, with
these wonderfully correlated and coordinated senses!

***

And
as the recipe for the day, what better than a crunchy, crackly, noisy peanut brittle?

Peanut Brittle.

Shell, skin and chop fine one quart of peanuts or enough to make
one cup of nutmeats. Place one cup of sugar in a saucepan without water, and
heat gradually, stirring all the time, until the sugar is completely melted.
Mix the peanuts in thoroughly, pour out on an inverted tine, unbuttered, then
shape into a square with two broad knives. When the candy begins to hold its
shape, mark it in small squares and continue to shape it and re-mark it until
it hardens. Set it to cool.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

It is Day 4 of our foray into the words of the
author of Dining and its Amenities, by a
Lover of Good Cheer (New York, 1907) on the role of the senses in the
pleasure of eating. Today it is the turn of the most obviously relevant sense –
that of taste. Again, his science is out of date, but his thoughts are still
worth a little of our reading time.

***

The gustative sense, than which there is no more precious gift
of the Creator to the creature, is cultivable to a high state only by man, even
from the humblest beginnings. It is likely that the first taster, perceiving
what is now called sapidity in an odorous object, after bruising it in his
mouth, swallowed it because good, and finding a second object malodorous and
unsavory rejected it because bad or because it failed to cause the pleasing
buccal sensation producedby the first. It may be said, therefore, that gustation or taste
is the perception as well as the distinction of certain properties of ingested
aliments. Perhaps a glance at the derivation of gustation and taste may help to
a clear conception of the value of these terms; the one from gustare and the other intensively from tangere and formerly used synonymously
with totest, to try, to feel, as appears when Hotspur says: “ . . Come,
let me taste my horse who is tobear me like a thunderbolt,” and when Toby Belch says to
Cesario: “Taste your legs, Sir; put
them to motion.”

The French use altogethergoût while we have the two
words gust and taste to convey the same idea or even different shades of
meaning, and base thereupon our stock of qualifyers, etc.; thus from gust come
gustation, gustative, gustatory, gustable, gustful, gustless, ingustible,
disgustible, disgust, disgustful, disgusting, and from taste, tasting, tasty,
tasteful, tasteless. Other expressions relating also to quality, such as
sapidity, saporific, sapid, insipid; savor, savory, unsavory; flavor, flavoring,
flavorless, etc., are in great request in gastronomy.

Strictly, to taste is to test, try, feel with the tongue any
alimentary or other substance put into the mouth with a view of ascertaining
whether sapid or insapid, good, bad, or indifferent; the perception of these
characters being seated in the gustative center of the brain whence is
reflected the general sensation of pleasure or displeasure.

Taste, like many other words pertaining to alimentation, is much
used figuratively, as in the expressions good or bad taste, or simply its want,
in written or in spoken language, and in dress, deportment, art, etc.; the old
adage, "De gustibus non est
disputandum'' being applied to both the original term and its figurative
usage. For instance, an aliment which is agreeable to one individual may be
repugnant to another. A particular work of art may give great pleasure to

an uninformed gazer and fail to satisfy the aesthesis of vision
of a good judge of such productions. Some forms or combinations of colors which
are pleasing to the eyes of the multitude are often offensive to the few whose
visual sense is highly cultivated. Certain

odors are pleasing to some persons and displeasing to others, as
in the case of meeting of an Athenian with a Spartan woman whose hair exhaled
the penetrating stench of a rancid unguent shocking to the olfactive
sensibility of the delicately perfumed Athenian woman whose refined essences
were equally repellant to the Spartan woman, so they simultaneously turned away
in disgust.

In gastronomy, taste requires long cultivation, and seldom
reaches its maturity before the age of forty, despite refined home
surroundings. Except, of course in the case of the fair sex, where is to be
found the perfection of daintiness and veritable gourmetism which is of the
rarest occurrence in adolescent males. The hunger of youth is imperative and
its cry is mainly for quantity. It is well known that many aliments disliked at
twenty are relished at forty, and vice versa. The excellence of certain wines,
such as those of Burgundy and of Madeira, is scarcely appreciated by the young
who crave the sweet and sparkling. The gratification of the sense of tastegives the highest attainable pleasure only to the experienced
gourmet who is wont to eat and drink, always in moderation, but with the
greatest attention and reflexion; and remembers the Master's aphorism to the
effect that ''Those who feed to surfeit and tipple to saturation know not how
to eat or drink."

The seat of the end-organs of gustation is chiefly at the base
and sides of the tongue which are the regions of the calciform papillae and of
their adjuncts the fungiform; the filiform papillae, disseminated upon nearly
the whole lingual surface, being purely tactile. However, the concurrence of
the tactile and olfactive senses is essential to perfect gustation and to thefull enjoyment of delicious aliments.

Some experimenters have reached the conclusion that there are
but two veritable savors; the sweet and the bitter, while others recognise
three additional savors, the saline, the alkaline, and the acid; but all reject
the idea of acrid savors which really result from the mechanical action of
acrid substances upon the tactile papillae of the tongue and indeed upon the
whole buccal membrane. They all very properly discard the so-called aromatic
savor which belongs exclusively to olfaction.

Tasty aliments are often designated palatable, although the
palate is passive as regards gustation;

its office being purely mechanical. It serves as a firmly fixed
surface against which the tongue bruises the food to express and diffuse sapid
particles for quick action by the saliva without which there would be no
gustation. The other parts of the buccal cavity are said to possess no more
than tactile properties.

The only truly gustible aliments are those containing sweet,
bitter, saline, alkaline, or acid principles. Hence the free use of condiments
of such nature in good cookery, and of pungent condiments in moderation to
stimulate all the papillae of the tongue. Fats are gustible from their mildly
saline principle but generally need an addition of salt or sugar. Bread without
salt would be tasteless. Sweet and acid fruits are always enjoyable when
sufficiently ripe. Nuts of divers kinds are liked on account of their bitter or
acid principle, and their taste is often improved by a sprinkle of salt or
sugar. Distilled water is insipid but rendered sapid by the addition of atrace of salt or sugar. Wines are gustible by reason of the
sugar therein contained; it is their aroma that gives the greater pleasure
through olfaction. Very dry wines, with but a trace of sugar, act mechanically
upon the lingual papillae, and their ethers are enjoyed through the sense of
smell. Rum is gustible owing to its sweetness.The love of cocktails and other equallyinjurious mixed drinks is because of their bitter, sweet, and
acid ingredients. Beer would be insipid but for its contained lupuline or other
bitter substance.

Taste, then, with its closely associated olfactive and tactile
senses, may be regarded, gastronomically, as the special and general sensation
of pleasure or displeasure evoked by the perception and specialisation of the
temperature, succulence, sapidity, and perfume of aliments; and figuratively,
as a judgment of the beautiful, the sublime, and the picturesque.'

***

In
view of the author’s strong opinion on the ‘injurious nature’ of cocktails and
other mixed drinks,’ I feel obliged to spring to their defense. I give you
therefore, a few words on ‘Punch’, because the mixing of good punch requires us
to consider and balance several of the various taste elements which we can
distinguish – sweet, sour, and bitter. The words are from Cooling Cups and Dainty Drinks (1869) by William Terrington.

PUNCH

Whene'er a bowl of punch we make,

Four striking opposites we take-

The strong, the small, the sharp, the
sweet,

Together mixed, most kindly meet.

And when they happily unite,

The bowl is “ ragrant with
delight."

THIS delicious beverage, which, if compounded in a proper
manner, is not so intoxicating as it has the character of being, is a
composition of sugar, lemon, water, or milk, and spirit, with the addition of
some aromatic or cordial; wine being sometimes substituted for the spirit.
There is no precise rule for making punch, no two persons agreeing in the exact
proportions of the ingredients. The great secret is that the mixture should be
so happily compounded that nothing predominates. …

A decoction of tea, especially a mixture of green and Pekoe, is
preferred to water for the liquor of punch. …

Punch is much improved by adding a very small quantity (which
the size of the bowl will regulate) of flowers of benzoin ; it imparts the
flavour of arrack to the punch.

A piece of butter, about the size of a filbert nut, is used by
many people to soften punch; this size will be sufiicient for a quart.

Guava or apple jelly makes punch truly delicious.

The following formula will give a good idea of the general
method of preparing punch on a rather large scale :

Begin by paring the rinds of 30 lemons very thin ; pound them in
a mortar with sufficient sugar to form a dry stiff paste ; strain the juice;
collect the pips, which put in a saucepan, and pour on them a pint of boiling
water; keep hot, so as to draw out the thick mucilaginous flavour; mix together
and strain clear, adding a little boiling water to the remains in the strainer
; when ready, taste the sherbet; add more acid, or sugar, if required, and the
liquor (tea or water); to every quart of sherbet add % pint of rum, and 1 pint
of brandy. This punch, if not made too weak with liquor, will keep some time.
It can ‘also have whatever addition the taste or fancy of the manipulator may
choose to prescribe for the sake of variety.

Tolpsey’s Account of
a West India Planter’s Punch.

“He made his appearance with a respectably sized bowl, an
enormous jug of boiling water, and a large paper bag filled with sugar. Our
punch-maker then commenced operations, and having extracted from his secret
store a bottle of his matchless rum, his limes, and a small pot of guava jelly,
he brewed about a pint of green tea (2 oz.), and, the infusion finished,
two-thirds of the sugar was dissolved in it. After the tea leaves had been
thrown aside, the remainder of the sugar was rubbed on the lime ; Mr. Hamilton
observing that the essential oil, which conveyed the exquisite flavour, was
much more strongly diffused throughout the compound than when the skin was
peeled; then the delicious acid of the fruit was added to the already
impregnated sugar, and as soon as the several lumps had imbibed the proportions
required, the guava jelly (and without this confection no punch can be
pronounced perfect) was dissolved in a pint or so of ' boiling water. This
done, the tea, the sweets, and the acids were commingled, and the foundation or
sherbert tasted by the experienced palate of the grand compounder; six glasses
of Cognac, two of Madeira, and the bottle of rum were added, and over all about
a quart more of boiling water, and, as a finishing touch, the slightest
possible sprinkling of nutmeg.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

On Day 3 of our exploration of the role of the
senses in the pleasure of eating, as explained in Dining and its Amenities, by a Lover of Good Cheer (New York, 1907)
we consider the sense of smell. The author’s science may not be up to date, but
the anecdote of the wine connoisseur is amusing and timeless!

***

'The olfactive sense, that chief detective, that Provost Marshal
of the sensory brigade, gives warning of foul odors which are abhorred because
of their association with bad taste, and signals the most delicate perfumes of
savory aliments before they reach the mouth, and enjoys them during and after
deglutition.

It is clear then that the acts of gustation and olfaction are
almost simultaneous, by reason of the close proximity of the end-organs of smell
and taste. So far as they relate to gastronomy, Savarin believed smell and
taste to be merged into a single sense, saying substantially that man tastes
nothing without smelling it, and the nose acts also as an advanced sentinel to
challenge incoming unknown aliments. He gave some well-known examples of the
correlation of the two senses, among which is - when the nasal membrane is in a
high state of irritation from what is commonly called a cold in the head -
taste is much impaired and often abolished while the trouble lasts. In such a
case, although the tongue appears to be in its normal state, no savor is
detected in what is eaten.

The just appreciation of the delicate bouquet of good wines is a
source of very high gratification to this sense which so quickly discerns and
so greatly enjoys it before, during, and after imbibition; this last enjoyment
being styled, figuratively, the echo of the sensation. No true gourmet ever
thinks of drinking Madeira or white Port except in the fragile "morning glory"
glass, or sparkling wines in other than the shallow, clear Cyprian bowl; in
both for the artistic form of the vessels, so pleasing to the eye, in all cases
to get the fullest enjoyable effect of theiraroma, and in the last, to feast vision with the rising bubbles
and the expansive foam.

The memory of olfaction is worthy of special illustration
although it is well known that the aroma of a wine may long dwell, as it were,
in the mind of the connoisseur. An
interesting tale, to this effect, has been told of a distinguished guest who,
in discussing with his friends the merits of certain favorite wines, spoke
warmly of the super-excellence of one of the Madeiras served from an unlabelled
bottle and ventured to tell when, where, and with whom he had tasted the same
wine; giving the date of the vintage. Thereupon the host smiled and said that,
only a few hours before, the so highly prized wine had been purchased for a
small coin at a comer shop. So confident of his assertions was the guest that,
after parting from the company, he went to the place indicated and bought the
whole stock of several dozen bottles of the really valuable wine which proved
to be what he had said concerning its characters, its vintage, and its original
ownership, and afterward learned by what devious ways it had reached the
spicery. Thushis memory of the tint, aroma, and savor of the wine was
rewarded, and he loyally retained possession of this delicious beverage whose
original owner had died leaving no heirs.

Professional wine-tasters use olfaction quite as much as
gustation in their tests and do so by slow

inhalations because probably they were told that the sense of
smell begins in the upper half of each nasal cavity, and that the lingering of
vinous fumes in this region of the olfactive cells and abundant twigs of the
nerve of smell is essential to the right appraisal of their qualities.'

***

As
the recipe for the day I was going to pay homage to the sense of smell by
giving you a recipe heavy with garlic, but what to follow a previous treat of
Garlic Soup? How about some sweet and sweetly fragrant violet candy?

Violets to Rock Candy.

Pick the leaves [petals] off the violets; then boil some of the
best, and finest sugar to soufflé,
pour it into a candying-pan made of tin, in the form of a dripping-pan, about
three inches deep; then strew the violet leaves as thick as possible on the top,
and put it into a hot stove, in which let it remain for ten days; when it is
hard candied, break a hole in one corner of it, and drain off all the syrup;
break it out, and place it in heaps upon a tin to dry in a stove.

The Cook's Dictionary, and House-keeper's Directory, (1830) by Richard Dolby.